


spinning on that dizzy edge

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Community: bfukinkmeme, Established Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 12:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: “He’s not doing that right.”Ryan says it right after the tight man wraps both of his hands around the woman’s throat and squeezes. When Zack glances over, Ryan is frowning at the screen. There are a few brownie crumbs stuck to the swell of his bottom lip, and Zack kind of wants to slide over and lick them off.Instead, he asks, “What do you mean?”Ryan lazily waves a hand in the general direction of the television. “That’s not how you choke someone. That’s just dangerous.”





	spinning on that dizzy edge

**Author's Note:**

> in the latest example of why I am a jackass, I decided to work on a bfukinkmeme prompt I found saved in my drafts because nothing else was giving me inspo... and about midway through, I realized it was my own goddamn prompt (aka, Ryan/Zack, breathplay/choking). so here's a gift for myself!
> 
> couple notes here. 1) speaking from personal experience, breathplay has the potential to be _extremely_ dangerous, so please be safe. 2) in this fic, both of them are on the same level of being less than sober but again, in real life, please be safe. on a related note, let me know if I've forgotten any tags.
> 
> and finally, title from [Just Like Heaven](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KbArv4L7xq0) by The Cure.

In retrospect, Zack can’t help but wonder if Ryan would have said anything if he wasn’t so high at the time.

It’s not a thought that goes through his head at the time, mainly because when it happens, he is _also_ very high. The well-worn cushions of Ryan’s couch are keeping him hostage, threatening to swallow him whole. There’s a movie playing on the television, a quintessential nineties thriller that’s like most of the others Zack has watched - the misogyny is rampant, the action scenes are over the top, and the psychology is lazy. At any other time, he would find something else on Netflix, but leaning forward the two feet it would take to grab the remote seems like an insurmountable task, so he stays exactly where he is and lets his attention wander.

Approximately ninety percent of the time, it wanders to Ryan, who is sprawled lengthwise on the couch with his thighs draped heavily over Zack’s lap. He looks like the most stereotypical frat boy Zack has ever seen in his loose basketball shorts, bright yellow Lakers jersey and matching hat (turned backwards, of course), and Zack absently has the thought that he’d like to get Ryan out of that outfit, at some point in the afternoon, maybe when his brain is working a little faster. For the time being, he settles for tangling his fingers over the slippery fabric of Ryan’s shorts, where it’s pooled just above his knees.

The leading man and his love interest are in the middle of another spectacularly dramatic fight, one that’s definitely going to lead to them banging if Zack is reading the scene right, and he glances away so that he can grab a sliver of brownie from the small pan beside Ryan’s hip. On the taste front, it’s not the best batch he’s ever made (the weed is a little too prominent), but it’s certainly doing the trick, and after popping the sliver into his mouth, he breaks off another bit, crumbs sticking to the pads of his fingers, and offers it up to Ryan. Ryan cranes away from the arm of the sofa with what seems to be a titanic amount of effort and grabs the piece with his teeth, briefly sucks Zack’s fingertips into his mouth for good measure before he slumps back down.

Zack swallows hard.

At times like this, his mind turns to how hanging out with Ryan used to be an exercise in frustration, how any accidental touch made him jump like he’d been stuck with a cattle prod, how he had to awkwardly comment upon it like it was his mission in life to convince everyone in the room (including himself) that there was nothing meaningful behind the physical contact.

Funny how a few years could change things.

When he belatedly glances back over at the screen (it takes a few moments to tear his eyes away from the curve of Ryan’s mouth), sure enough, the fight has turned into a flurry of ripping clothes and sloppy kisses with _far_ too much tongue. There’s a certain aggressiveness to the scene that’s consistent with how the rest of the movie has been, and he idly wonders if people back in the nineties actually found this kind of thing to be erotic.

“He’s not doing that right.”

Ryan says it right after the man wraps both of his hands tight around the woman’s throat and squeezes, which causes her to throw her head back in the most over the top display of ecstasy Zack has ever seen. When Zack glances over, Ryan is frowning at the screen. There are a few brownie crumbs stuck to the swell of his bottom lip, and Zack kind of wants to slide over and lick them off.

Instead, he asks, “What do you mean?”

Ryan lazily waves a hand in the general direction of the television. “That’s not how you choke someone. That’s just dangerous.”

Something warm and fluttery begins to flicker in Zack’s stomach. It’s not something he’s done before, on either end of the equation, and Ryan has never mentioned it before during any of the times they’ve fucked around. Sure, Zack has seen him _joke_ about it, seen the videos he’s done in the past where he pretended to do it to himself, but considering the other weird stuff he’s seen Ryan do in the name of viral internet content, that’s nothing definitive.

Needless to say, his curiosity has been piqued.

“How do you do it properly?” he asks, barely aware that his fingertips have slid into Ryan’s shorts and are skating over the warm muscle of his thigh. He expects Ryan to launch into some meandering kind of anatomy lesson, maybe demonstrate on a couch cushion or something, but instead, with a remarkable amount of energy that Zack doesn’t think he could dredge up even if he tapped into his deepest reserves, Ryan levers himself up and drops himself into Zack’s lap, one leg on either side of him, weight settled back against Zack’s knees. 

“Hi,” Zack breathes out, tilting his head back against the couch so that he isn’t staring at Ryan’s chest, which is blocking his view of the television. Ryan laughs a little, high enough that it could almost be classified as a giggle, before he takes one of Zack’s hands.

“You can do it with one hand.” With the concentration of someone working on the tiniest of projects, like those people who carve figurines that fit in the eye of a needle, he adjusts the positioning of Zack’s fingers. Once that’s done, he pulls Zack’s hand up higher, until the webbing between his thumb and forefinger is pressed to the top of his throat, underneath his chin, and his other fingers are splayed around the side of his neck. His pulse is thrumming against the pad of Zack’s thumb, and when he swallows, Zack’s palm rocks with the motion.

“Okay,” he says, licking his own lips. There’s a red flush slowly creeping along Ryan’s jaw and his cheeks, and it’s possibly the most entrancing thing Zack has ever seen, second only to his own hand wrapped around Ryan’s neck. “What’s next?”

“Then you press up and in. Like this.” Ryan presses his own fingers into the back of Zack’s hand, below his knuckles, and then drags them _up_ , until Zack’s thumb is pressed flush into the jut of Ryan’s jawbone and his palm is compressing the front of Ryan’s throat. Instinctively, his other fingers tighten slightly on the side of Ryan’s neck, and Ryan’s dark eyes go wide. His breath clicks, and his fingers skitter down the back of Zack’s hand to curl around his wrist. 

“Like that?” Zack asks, trying to spread his legs a little in the confines of where Ryan is wrapped around him; he’s too hard for his jeans to be comfortable, but Ryan is pressed too close to him to get much relief. He loosens his fingers again, until he’s just cupping the column of Ryan’s throat, and Ryan nods and falls forward, until his forehead is braced against Zack’s. The rough netting of his hat against Zack’s skin is itchy, so Zack yanks it off his head, revealing black hair flattened in some spots and stuck up in others, and sends it sailing across the room.

“Yeah. Like that.” His fingers drag down Zack’s arm and curl tightly around his bicep. “Do it again.”

Zack carefully repeats what Ryan showed him, presses up and in and squeezes gently, and this time, when Ryan’s breath hitches, he feels it against his own mouth as Ryan kisses him, hot and open-mouthed. This time, Zack holds it for a beat longer, and when he loosens up, Ryan’s pupils are blown wide. His flush has totally overtaken his face, and he’s hard in his shorts. The way the slippery fabric is tented is almost ludicrous, and Zack laughs a little as he drops his free hand to the strong curve of Ryan’s upper thigh.

“Want me to keep going?” It’s a two-pronged question, and thankfully, Ryan answers both parts by craning his neck into Zack’s fingers and dragging Zack’s other hand over to rest on top of his dick through the shorts.

“Yeah.” He’s already panting, and Zack doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so strung out, so desperate, even on the nights where they’ve actually taken their time with each other. “C’mon. Please.”

There’s a gunfight emanating from the movie now, and Zack kind of wishes they had something else for background accompaniment, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to ask Ryan to mute the television or switch over to another movie. Instead, he works his hand into the loose leg hole of Ryan’s shorts and boxers, until his fingers are wrapped around Ryan’s dick, and squeezes lightly. Ryan jerks into his hand, and when Zack tightens his fingers on his throat, he lets out a choking gasp and surges back down into a feverish kiss that Zack can barely keep up with.

Frankly, the whole situation is kind of an overload. It’s not like he’s exceptionally coordinated at the best of times, and trying to juggle three different things at once in his current state, when his reflexes are slow and he’s distracted by how thoroughly Ryan is wrapped around him, is borderline impossible. Thankfully, on at least one front, Ryan is willing to put in most of the work; his hips keep rolling up into the loose circle of Zack’s fingers, which means he can focus more on making sure he doesn’t take too much of Ryan’s breath away.

“A little harder,” Ryan eventually rasps. His free hand is tight on Zack’s bicep again, digging in hard enough that he won’t be surprised if there are bruises left behind when all is said and done.

“You sure?” Zack asks, taking a moment to simply whisk his thumb back and forth over the heated, taut skin of Ryan’s neck. His pulse is hammering hard enough that Zack is surprised he can’t hear it in his own ears.

“Yeah.” Ryan nods and briefly bites down on Zack’s bottom lip, which goes straight to where he’s ludicrously hard and constrained by his damnable zipper. “C’mon, man. Please.” Just a note of whine creeps into his voice, and Zack’s fairly certain that he’d do anything Ryan asked, so long as it was in that voice. Backing away from Ryan’s mouth so that he can do his best to concentrate, he digs his fingers in and presses harder than he’s dared to do thus far.

Almost immediately, Ryan’s mouth drops open into a silent gasp, and he spills hot over Zack’s fingers. His forehead drops heavily against Zack’s, and when Zack carefully releases the pressure on his throat, he draws in a wavering, loud breath. There are long, slender marks on his neck that aren’t dark enough to bruise, but Zack is still entranced by them, by the fact he put them there, that Ryan _trusted_ him enough for that.

Before he can get too distracted by them, Ryan abruptly moves away from him and nearly falls off the couch in his haste to kneel on the floor. There’s still come on Zack’s fingers, and he barely has time to wipe it off on his jeans before Ryan pops them open and yanks both them and his boxers down just far enough for him to lean in and wrap his mouth around Zack’s dick.

Zack comes just as the credits start to roll.

Afterwards, once they’ve both levered themselves out of the couch long enough to go clean up, Ryan flops back down with his head resting squarely in Zack’s lap. After grabbing another chunk of brownie and popping it in his mouth, he tilts his head up to look at Zack. 

“So,” he says, eyes red and mouth still a little swollen, “is there anything you want to teach me how to do properly?”

Zack mulls the question over while he chews on another brownie. There are a few things he can think of, things that they haven’t tried yet that he’d be interested in exploring. He wants to see how Ryan’s wrists would look secured to the metal posts of his headboard, wants to see how Ryan would look fingering himself open or with a gag carefully placed in his mouth.

Frankly, the possibilities are endless.

“Yeah,” he answers, tracing his thumb over the jut of Ryan’s Adam’s apple and delighting in the shudder that courses through Ryan's body. “I can think of a few things.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
